


Who Are We Becoming?

by nanjcsy



Series: Candles Burn, Candles Go Out. [5]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mind Games, POV Sansa, Thoughts of revenge, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 20:17:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4033144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanjcsy/pseuds/nanjcsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the trailer of season five episode eight. Another idea that hit my brain of what might happen. We all know I am always wrong at these predictions...::grins:: but hey, why not, right???</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Are We Becoming?

The grating sound came and Sansa's teeth ground against each other. It is a detestable sound because it never brings anything good. Whenever that door opens its either the creature or the monster. It is daylight so it has to be the creature, unlike at Kings Landing, here the monsters only appear at night. She sat up, refusing to ever let this creature, this mouthpiece of Ramsay's to ever see her weak again.

The smell still hadn't grown too bad, since his bath before her wedding. Its not the smell that makes her want to gag. It is this shambling walking dead man wearing the mask of Theon Greyjoy. When he said he was sorry, of course Ramsay had made him. What was worse was the look in his eyes during it. Not a single bit of remorse for two dead children, she could see that. Has Ramsay done such awful things, that Theon became this Reek and forgot his own past?  Or was Theon so unfeeling, so rotten inside that Reek was the best way to hide his own black soul?

Sansa could have kicked herself for trying to speak with him. To think that this broken thing could actually help her. His name may be Reek now, but he lied and betrayed just like Theon. She could have sworn she saw him sobbing on her wedding night. In fact, twice Ramsay ordered Reek to silence for whining so loudly. It was true, she knows he was horrified by what her husband was doing to her. Since then he never spoke except to say whatever Ramsay had told him to say. When Ramsay locked her in, he was all she saw. She remembers being so beaten one morning that the creature had tenderly washed her. He tended all her wounds and she felt wetness from tears on her arm.

Now she is no longer deluded. This Reek might feel bad for her wounds, but he will never help her. So be it. Yesterday, when Ramsay had his men throw her cloak at her and bring her out, she did something. Stole something. Without anyone seeing her, she swiped that damned key. It was hidden deep within the mattress and calling to her loudly. When night fell and Ramsay came, it was worse than ever before. He choked her with his hands over and over, if she passed out, he waited. She would come to and see his face, smiling so demonically at her. Then the hands would tighten and Ramsay would thrust into her again. He took his belt and beat her naked body until Sansa begged for mercy. Mercy came in the form of Ramsay falling upon her than taking her backside. As she tore and drooled, crying, so brought low, Sansa thought of the key...and of revenge.

As soon as Reek leaves, Sansa will steal the dinner dagger, better than nothing and get her key. For clothing, she has managed to swipe a pair of breeches that Ramsay had left in the room. If he gets anything too bloody, he tends to shed it and leave without it. She will tuck her gown into the breeches, fashion a belt from the ripped tunic he had left behind. It was tacky with ginger hair, blood and semen but it will do. Wrapping the heavy cloak the guards left around her, barefoot, oh well. Her mother could have walked barefoot over hot coals for her children. Sansa will walk on shards of dragon-stone if she has to. Sitting ramrod straight, glaring at the shambling creature, her hands clasped together. She can already feel the heavy key in her hands, itching to run for freedom. Then it all crashed down.

Reek put down the tray and slowly turned to leave. He made two shambling steps towards the door then stopped. It seemed he was wrestling with something and Sansa just wished he would hurry and leave. If that creature spoke to her, Sansa just might strangle him. The shaggy head raised and those bugged out eyes peered at her. He flinched at her stony anger but spoke anyway. "He..He knows you have that key." Well, her prediction came true. She launched herself at him. "You traitor, killer, creature, betrayer! How did you see me take it? You told him! If I could do to you what Ramsay does, I would!" Her hands were around his throat, cutting off all air. I can do this, I can just wring the life out of him. Do what Robb should have done!

Try as she might, Sansa could not manage to kill him. Though this Reek seemed to want this, he never once raised his hands. Just slowly turned colors and foamed at the mouth. With a screech of disgust and hate, Sansa dropped him. She panted from exertion and staggered to sit in the chair. Leaning her head on the table, she stared at the dull knife. "Get out. Get out of my room. Tell Ramsay I refuse your services anymore. If you bring the food, I won't touch it. Tell him I want a new servant. I don't care if it's the whore, anyone but you." The words she spat, made Reek cringe, as he tried to get his breath. "Please. Listen." His words were raspy and Sansa actually growled as if she were her own direwolf. "Reek or Theon, get out. Before I cut your eyes out with this dull knife."

"Milady, trying..to..help...a game..."Reek struggled to speak as he stood, trembling badly. He was putting his three fingered hand close to his chest. "Lord Ramsay...he..." Sansa could not listen to another second of the creature's stammering. Clutching the dull knife, she stood up and advanced. The creature began to back towards the door, whimpering. "Get out right this second, Reek. I don't care what Ramsay will do to for my refusal of your services. I don't care what games he wants you to play. If you are still here in three seconds, I am popping out your eyes. Remember Arya? Remember how she took the eyes out of my dolls? I am going to do that to you." Sansa had the knife nearly at an eyeball before Reek fled.

So be it. Sansa dressed anyway, used the key and took the knife anyway. If she is lucky, she might be able to at least do something. Ramsay is expecting her to leave the castle, to run for the gates. So she will do something else, go into the tombs. At first, a thought hit her, maybe she could appeal to Roose Bolton? He must know what she is going through. Sansa could explain to him that there was no need to lock her up. She will not leave her home, she is not protesting her marriage in any way. Surely he will see the political reasoning that a missing bride is not helping their position. Sansa needs to be seen so that everyone of the North knows their prize Stark is home. She cannot help but feel bitter towards all of them right now. Not once has a Northen Lord  come to see the safe return of a Stark? Truly, she had no allies here and those that would have come do not know she needs them.

No, Roose won't help her. He knows what his son is and does. As long as Ramsay does his father's bidding and is useful, he is not going to interfere. Ramsay's own sadism is his father's leash and Sansa runs towards the crypts. In a stroke of luck, there is not a single problem getting past the servants and guards. There are few about in this more deserted section of her home and those few are all sleepy or distracted. As Sansa enters the dark, familiar crypts, she lights a candle. Perhaps she can hide here until an opportunity arises during the night. She can bring the candle to the broken tower and then wait. Eventually she must go up to find food and water and she knows she'll be caught. As long as that candle is lit, Sansa can bear whatever hell Ramsay brings upon her. Knowing it has an end, she can bear anything. She is a Stark. And a Bolton now, she reminds herself. Starks can endure and Boltons can bring pain. If she is both, perhaps Ramsay should someday become as afraid of her, as Reek is. As cringing and shuffling as his own pet is.

Smiling at her own thoughts, it took Sansa a moment to hear the sounds. A muffled laugh, shifting of bodies and then the pungent smell of that creature. Lifting her candle higher, she saw Ramsay. Then his boys, she had not met them, but Ramsay took great detail in telling her of them. That large one must be Damon, he has a greased whip at the ready. Tall, thin and disgusting holding a flaying knife, there was Skinner. Three others were there and Sansa no longer wanted to remember the stories of them. Reek stood near Ramsay, miserable and silent. Of course, the creature had to witness whatever is about to happen. The monster isn't happy unless everyone else is crying. "My lovely wife, it hurts me that you are so unhappy to try and leave me twice. Do you know, Theon Greyjoy was stupid enough to fall for my escape game. I had higher hopes for a Stark."

Suddenly Sansa recalled what Reek had stammered earlier and it fell into place. Reek remembered Theon because he had tried to warn her. To tell her that it was a set up, that Ramsay was putting her in his next game. Even as her husband and his men advanced, Sansa kept that tiny grain of hope. He can remember. Theon is still in there and if it kills them both, she will force him out. Make him become himself again, make him get her some help. One way or another, if this Reek must lose an eye, so be it.

They whipped, clawed at her, used her in every way, yet Sansa was stone cold inside. Inside, there was a small smile because they don't understand what they are really doing. They aren't punishing her, weakening her, making her grovel into a Reek. No, they are simply beating the Bolton into her. 


End file.
